


Black Cherry Chutney

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bloodplay, Dark!Jughead, F/M, Knifeplay, Oneshot, Praise Kink, Previous two tags are very mild, Sort of smutty with a sprinkle of plot, Tumblr Prompt, bughead - Freeform, dark!betty, non-main character death mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: Tell me something, what do you think Betty Cooper has to hide? She's got a 4.0 GPA, is a cheerleader, editor of the school newspaper, tutors other students 2 days a week, and is always home by curfew. She's always careful, too careful. Curious? So is Jughead.In a world where blood runs white and darkens with each sin, only time will tell who runs with the devil.





	Black Cherry Chutney

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt by cooperbettycooper, (on here and tumblr, follow her!) about a world where people start out with white blood and it starts to darken with crimes/sins. So I just ran with it, adopting it to our dear Bughead. It gets kinda dark, so I hope you enjoy!

Jughead sat at his booth at Pop's, laptop opened to a blank word document. Staring at the screen, his fingers poised above the keys rythmically. The sounds of the dinner behind him low and barely registering as he zoned out. Why couldn’t he think? Why couldn’t he get the words out? There was this frustration that was bubbling up inside him, hot and clawing it’s way up his throat. Jughead's hands slammed against the table, a resounding ‘ _smack_ ’ ringing out and causing a burst of silence around him. He brought a fist to his lips, holding back the expleatives he wanted to scream at everyone who had turned to stare at him.

“Everything okay?” a voice sweet as sugar wafted over him. He wanted to groan.

“Yes, Betty. Everything's just _fine._ ” His tone was short, words clipped in anger as he stared defiantly out the window, not looking at her. Jughead heard her sigh and he waited for her to walk away. She was still standing close to the table because he could still smell her. She was always this alluring combination of vanilla and honeysuckle that clouded his brain like a thick fog billowing out, drowning him. He fucking loved it.

Instead of leaving, he heard the squelch of the vinyl booth as she sat down. Not across from him, but rather, right next to him. She was close enough that their arms were brushing and he could feel her bare skin ghost across his – it was too hot out to wear anything more than a t-shirt. A shiver ran down his spine, gooseflesh rising on his arm. Shifting slightly away from her, Jughead stretched his arms back out on the table after closing his laptop. He was staring forward, towards the booth in front of him at the back of some woman’s head. He could see Betty's pursed pink lips in the corner of his vision. 

Her fingers closed around one of his hands, small warm fingers squeezing.

“Jughead,” her voice was close to his ear and he didn’t dare turn his head.

“Yes, Betty?” he questioned, tone aloof as he waited for her to say her peace and then leave.

“I'm worried about you,” she said softly, as if he would snap. Jughead scoffed -- when had she ever really paid attention to him? How could she be worried about someone she didn’t even really _know_?

“You haven’t been at school for three days,” her voice was gentle, like a whisper blowing in the breeze. It made his skin itch. 

“Did you just come here to state facts Betty? Or was there a purpose to this little visit...” he trailed off, lips pursing tightly. The hand that wasn’t under her grasp tightening where he had pulled it down to his thigh, fingers digging into the muscle.

“I came here because I saw you this morning, at Sweetwater River.”

There was something in his throat that he was trying not to choke on. She had seen him?

“I told you, I was worried about you. Archie had said something about how you'd been going down there lately. And when you hadn’t come to school for the second day in a row I thought something might be wrong.”

 _Oh Archie, you idiot,_ he thought solemnly. 

“So you took it upon yourself to try and do something about which you have no control over?” he couldn’t help how sharp his words were, biting through the air like a knife. He heard her slump back into the booth, the red vinyl squeaking from the press of her back.

“Jug, I can’t worry about my friend?”

“No, Betty, you can't. Because we're not friends.” 

“I'm serious Jughead. Stop trying to push me away!” she hissed at him, her voice against his ear as her fingers pinched the skin of his hand causing a bite of pain to flame up. He yanked his hand away, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Listen to me, Jughead,” Her voice demanded attention and he barely turned his head, the piercing green of her wide doe-eyes all to much to face head on. 

“I understand what you were doing there. You shouldn’t be skipping school though."

Jughead wasn’t expecting her to say that, not really. Well, maybe the skipping school part. He gave a short, exasperated sigh. “It’s not like anyone cares, Betty.”

“ _I_ care.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Whatever, Betty. Are we done here? I promise I won’t skip school to go down to Sweetwater River anymore,” he spoke in a clipped tone, unsure who exactly he was lying to, himself or to her. Maybe he hadn’t decided yet. Jughead couldn’t help the twinge in his chest at her declaration. He could have sworn she only had Archie-vision.

“You better be at school tomorrow. I didn’t skip today for this to be for nothing, okay? I mean it. Go to Sweetwater River _after_ school if you have to.”

Betty scooted out of the booth, her shoulder knocking into his briefly as she turned in the seat. He looked over at her, eyes glancing to her hands where they were clenched into tight fists. She left like that and he watched her out the window as she stomped to her car. 

She left, eventually, and Jughead wondered if she felt his stare on her the entire time she sat with her head against the steering wheel. 

However, he would never know that when Betty got to her car and uncurled her fists that the blood she had brought to the surface with her nails was a deep, rich red. The color of sin.

.

.

.

Jughead, of course, couldn’t keep his promise to Betty in the long run. Monday morning he was back at Sweetwater River.

In the beginning he wasn’t sure why ended up there, in the first place. It had been somewhere everyone else had been afraid to go recently, so it was quiet. Then he had found this little wooden shed in the forest.

Had watched it for a while, no one seeming to come around. It was close enough to the river that he could see the banks out the small window inside. It was just slightly larger than where he used to sleep at the projection booth at the drive-in and just a bit smaller than his room at his dad's trailer. He had made it his little home away from hell.

Sleeping bag tucked into the corner, small camp stove, extra propane, a cooler, lantern, a big charging brick for his laptop, phone, and a fan he used for these warmer months. Jughead wasn't sure what he wss going to do during the winter, however.

He charged his things at school or when he was actually at his dad's place. His personal stuff was strewn about the small space in a manner that he found pleasing, with a single picture of himself and his sister that he had been carrying around forever.

Jughead was ill at ease knowing Betty must have seen him come here. Had been watching him. Did she believe him when they had talked Thursday afternoon or was she watching him _right now?_ His lips turned down into a frown, as he looked out the small window. Archie must have told her where exactly he was, _what a bro, dude._ He hadn’t seen anything out the window but trees, grass, leaves, the squirrel that was always scurrying around. 

He got down to the floorboards, pulling a pocket knife from his jean's pocket, flipping the blade out. Jughead watched the silver gleam as he twisted it, using it to pry up one of the floor boards closer to the window. From the space in the floor he pulled out a rectangular metal box with a lock on it. He dialed in the combination and popped the lid.

Jughead was no angel.

He ran his fingers over the items in the box. All things he had nicked from people around town, his friends even. All precious things to people, some valuable and others only sentimental. Rings, necklaces, a compact, a hair comb, watches, a set of cufflinks, an iPod, bottles of pills, an engraved lighter. The pearl necklace and spider broach he had were his favorites. The look on Cheryl's face when the brooch had gone missing was priceless. She had driven him up a wall with everything she tried in order to find out who had taken it. He knew it was worth a lot of money, but he would only sell it if he was desperate. It was fun, challenging to have his eye catch something that might be missed, to figure out a way to get it. It wasn't terribly hard, when everyone thought you were invisible.

Except for Betty _fucking_ Cooper.

He ground his teeth together tightly, fist slamming into the wood of the wall next to him. He couldn’t believe the nerve of that girl. Why did she care? He certainly wasn’t making it easy. Did she just like a challenge as much as he did?

Jughead chewed on his lip, knife making dents in the wood as he stabbed it over and over with the tip of the blade.

Betty had always been around, chasing after Archie. Perfect girl next door, Betty. Baked cookies for everyone's birthday Betty. Cheerleader and student mentor, perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect smile Betty. What was _wrong_ with her?

He wondered what color her blood was. Would it be red like his? Or white as snow? Maybe she was the color of bubblegum, sweet and pink, just starting to turn the corner.

He ran the blade of the knife over the pad of his thumb, catching the skin with the sharp edge and slicing a shallow line. Jughead stared down at the red that appeared, the color he equated it to would be that of red brick. He still had a ways to go before he reached the end of the line. He had figured, why stop? There was only so far he could go and he wanted to see what that was.

Sticking his thumb between his lips he licked the blood drop that had welled up, the copper tang sharp on his tongue before mellowing. The taste was different as well. His blood had started to get much sweeter and sticky as the color changed.

Jughead remembered the first time he saw his blood – a nose bleed after being knocked in the face with a ball at recess many moons ago. It had been the color of antique lace, surprising his mother. He supposed the other children had still been purely white. Was that part of why she left?

He tucked the box back underneath the floor, slipping the board back in place and moving to lay on his sleeping bag, one arm up behind his head. His beanie lay next to him. The hat combined with his thick, dark hair made him uncomfortable as they approached summer. The coolness from the woods was seeping through the floorboards, just taking away the edge of heat that made him sweat.

Jughead closed his eyes, slowing his breathing as he tried find some peace in the quiet he had built here. He could hear the birds outside and quiet rushing of the river in the background. So different to his life at home with his father, the perpetual garbage dumpster for empty alcohol bottles and remnants of cocaine dust. He hoped his father overdosed and died.

Okay, maybe that was a little _too_ dark.

He just wished for a different life with a different family. One that involved loving parents and the opportunity to do something with his life. Jughead tried to imagine what it would be like but always came up with pictures of other people's families, ones he knew that still had problems. Nobody was perfect though. He sighed, turning his cheek to the silky satin of the sleeping bag.

He dreamt of a river that looked to be made of blood, rushing red waters. It was reminiscent of Sweetwater River, wide and tumultuous with jagged rocks and bends in the line it ran through the woods. The rocks that lined it were stained black, like little pieces of coal. There was someone floating on their back, hands ghosting across the top of water as they drifted down the current. They were naked, pale skin shining in the moonlight that overcast the trees. He could tell it was a woman, soft and curvy.

A crow screeched over head and Jughead turned to look at it, realizing he'd been standing on the bank of the river. The large black crow had three eyes, and it stared at him before tilting its head at an odd angle. He felt something crawl up his spine, little tingles pressing along his vertebrae. The crow cawed at him before diving towards the woman floating in the river.

He stepped forward, to call out to her in warning but nothing came from his throat. His bare feet touched the red water, realizing it was indeed blood. His toes squishing in the mix of sand and blood, sticky and wet. When he looked up from his feet, the woman and crow were gone. Glancing around, Jughead saw nothing but the trees.

He turned around to step back up out of the river, coming face to face with the woman. He stepped backwards, up to his ankles in the blood. Her skin was stained red, like someone had taken a brush and painted her, then let it dry. Jughead’s eyes glanced over the rest of her body briefly, taking in her curves. His breathing got heavy as he drug his eyes away from her breasts. Her hair was red too, but only because the blonde hairs had soaked up the color as well. Green eyes stared into blue, and he was unable to look away. Her hand reached out to him, fingers coming up to graze his chest which he realized was bare.

She slid her hand from his chest up to his neck before her eyes turned black and a terrible scream came from her mouth. Black blood spilled out over her lips, running all down her throat, thick and foamy. Her hand suddenly clenching around his throat, compressing his windpipe with her thumb, the pressure bordering on deadly.

He couldn’t bring his hands to move, they were glued to his sides as the woman advanced, stepping into him. His chest was heaving and his eyes started to water. She tilted her head, drawing her other hand up to cup his face as she brought herself closer, as if to kiss him. Jughead's heart was beating erratically in his chest, and despite the fear of her hand around his throat, he was excited.

He never got her kiss. Instead a loud clack of thunder booming through the air woke him.

Jughead brought his hand from behind his head and bit the knuckle of his index finger, pain searing through him. Yeah, he was definitely awake now. He released his finger, hand falling away with a sigh. He could never have anything nice. Things were prone to being ripped away from him.

He shuffled to his feet, looking out the window to see that it had turned dark and stormy. The cloud cover and mist making it seem much later than six pm. Jughead watched as a strike of lighting flickered across the sky, bright white against dark grey, the thunder booming only a second after. It must have been fairly close.

The air had cooled significantly, and he was thankful that he wouldn’t have to use his fan tonight. He was actually going to go to school tomorrow, just so he could see the look on Betty's face. He wondered how disappointed she must have been, with him missing again today. He chuckled lightly to himself, he could almost imagine her green eyes filled with sadness.

Suddenly, there was a gentle rapping on the wooden door.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, looking to the door with a frown. Only two people knew about him coming here and he knew that it wasn’t Archie knocking like that.

He ripped the door open, ready to tear Betty apart, harsh words dying on the tip of his tongue when he saw her.

She was standing there soaking wet; tendrils of loose hair dripping, nose red, and shoulders shaking. The white blouse she was wearing clinging to her like a second skin, giving him a good show of the pale blue bra she had on underneath. Betty was wearing rain boots on over her jeans though, so she must have known it was going to rain. Where was her fucking rain coat? His eyes flashed dangerously, arm reaching out and yanking her inside without saying anything. She yelped, but didn’t fight his grip on her arm.

Jughead slammed the door shut, turning to look at her. “What the fuck are you doing here Betty?” he growled, stepping closer to her. She backed up as far as she could, which was only a couple of steps, her back hitting the wall by the window. She whimpered, the sound doing wicked things to him.

She straightened up after a moment, fixing him with a stern look, despite looking as helpless as a drowned rat. “I'm sorry Jughead, but I told you I was worried. And you _promised_ me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention down once more. He flicked his eyes back up to hers, the piercing green causing him a feeling of dread, akin to deja vu.

“Betty,” he started, stepping closer to her again. He raised his arms up to press against the wooden wall, hands on either side of her head as he leaned down. “Everything is _fine_. So _stop_ fucking worrying about me.”

She was looking up at him, frown on her face and a small wrinkle in between her eyebrows. His fingers twitched, wanting to take his thumb and smooth out her skin, tell her that frowning _wasn’t pretty._ He almost laughed.

Betty scoffed, her arms dropping from her chest to her sides, hands curling into tight fists. “I only came here because of the rain. I got caught in it while out, so why not check up on you and get dry? Kill two birds with one stone.”

He assessed her words, trying to figure out her purpose. If he wasn’t the reason for coming out here, what had she been doing? Jughead pondered, curious as to what she'd been up to in the woods around Sweetwater River. Her voice brought him back from the bubble he had slipped into.

“It's not like I’m enjoying this, you’re always an asshole to me. Why would I _want_ to spend time with you when all you do is hurt me? I’m just checking to make sure you're alive.” Betty arched a brow at him, as if challenging him to a duel. She wouldn’t win this.

“Betts, I have barely _touched_ you. You don’t even know what I could do,” he breathed into her ear, voice low, breath hot. He was pretty rude the other day, but she kept coming back. Part of her _liked_ him, liked this dynamic they had or she really wouldn’t be here right now. His heart beat faster, mixed feelings swirling in his gut.

Jughead felt her tremble, their chests just barely touching. He could feel her nipples through her bra and shirt, hard little pebbles against his chest. Smirking, he backed up from her, his arms dropping back down, shifting to lean against the wall across from her.

“If your going to get dry, you might want to get out of those clothes.” He was surprising himself today. Her eyes widened at him, his own catching the small quiver in her lower lip.

Running a hand through his hair, he froze. His beanie was lying on the floor to his left and he sighed. Fuck it. Twirling the curl that was dangling in front of his vision he motioned with his hand for her to go on. He was sure that Betty would shove past him, give him the finger, anything but actually take her clothes off. So Jughead was actually impressed when she pulled her rain boots off, tossing them to the floor where his black boots were sitting. Her bare toes were touching the wood floor, her toenails a dark purple. He flicked his eyes up, watching as she slid her backpack from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Her hands started unbuttoning her shirt, having to peel the wet material from her skin. Once it was off she wrung it out right there,  water droplets hitting the floor. His eyes darkened, roaming over the new skin he'd only seen briefly when they had gone swimming together in the past.

Betty hung her shirt over the little desk chair that made up the only furniture besides the desk, in the room. She started wiggling out of her jeans, his eyebrows raising into his hairline as matching lacy, pale blue underwear were revealed. She had great fucking legs. He had definitely noticed her short cheerleading skirts and shorts. 

“Can I at least borrow a shirt?” she asked, tossing her pants over the desk and spreading them out to dry. He stayed quiet for a moment, drinking her in, she was standing there in only her underwear after all. Then he was reaching up and pulling the grey t-shirt he was wearing off, holding the fabric out to her. She took it from him, their fingers brushing, lingering too long. Betty slipped it on over her head, the hem falling above the middle of her thighs.

Jughead now only stood in his black jeans, slung low on his hips. Her eyes trailed his chest, slipping further down. His smirk was growing and he cleared his throat, her eyes shooting back up. She looked embarrassed, glancing away. She pulled her bag up off the floor, setting it on the desk and riffling through it. He came up behind her, leaning over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of what looked like black hair before she was closing the zipper and holding out a pack of twizzlers to him. He raised an eyebrow but took the package, lowering himself down to his sleeping bag to stretch out.

Betty shuffled in place, trying to decide what to do. He was content watching her as he was getting a nice eyeful of her ass due to the high cut of her underwear, they were pretty much all lace. But she eventually  decided to sit herself down across from him, by his feet. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, an arm wrapping around them as she held her other hand out.

He munched on a twizzler, pretending not to notice her reaching hand. He was a little distracted by the view of her crossed legs, the glimpse of blue lace haunting his gaze. She let out a frustrated whine of his name, “Juggie,” waving her hand around, frown marring her features again.

“Yeah?”

“Give me a fucking twizzler,,” her tone was clipped and his stomach clenched at her cursing, the sound hot in his ears.

“What's the magic word, Betty?”

“ _Please, Juggie._ ”

Oh that voice did things to him, low and breathy, sounding like sin itself. He wanted to hear it again and again. He only passed a twizzler over to her though. “Good girl,” He praised with a wink. Color filled her cheeks at that, and he caught the subtle movement of her thighs tightening together and he chewed the inside of his cheek. It was in vain, as he spoke anyway.

“You got a praise kink Betty?” he questioned, head tilting to the side. He watched her choke on the twizzler she had in her mouth, hand coming up from her legs to her touch her throat.

“Excuse me?”

“I said—”

“I know what you said!” she huffed, glaring at him. He just smirked at her, throwing the pack of twizzlers towards his camp stove and clicking the light of his lantern on, bathing them in a soft glow of light as it was getting hard to see her pretty pink cheeks.

“I don’t have a _praise kink_ ,” she said resolutely. She was a fucking liar.

Jughead threw his head back in a laugh, raising up on his elbows to look at her better. “Betty. _You're such a good girl, always perfect for me,_ ” He purred, voice dropping down, low and husky. He watched her carefully, the way her eyes darkened and the movement of her knees pressing tighter together. He laughed at her again and she blushed a brighter red.

“You're wet right now, I know you are.”

She whimpered slightly and his jeans were growing unbelievably tight now.

“Maybe I am, so what?” she finally plucked up some courage.

“Have you ever been touched Betty?” he licked his lips, eyes trained on her. She shook her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Come here,” he jerked his head, motioning her over. He sat up as she crawled over to him shyly. He pulled on her wrist, yanking her forward to fall into him. She shuddered, her hands clasping his shoulders.

Jughead captured her lips in a bruising kiss, arms tight on her waist. Their teeth clashed together and he adjusted his angle, the push and pull of their lips finding a rhythm eventually. He bit down on her bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood but she tore her mouth away from him panting as she leaned her cheek over his shoulder.

“Be a good girl and lay face down for me Betty,” he said, pushing her from between his legs. She nodded at his words, lips swollen. She lay down with her arms tucked under her chin, chewing at her swollen lip. 

He hovered above her on his knees before drawing the scrap of blue lace down her thighs and stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans. His hands cupped her bottom, massaging gently before he drew one hand back and gave her a hard slap to her right cheek. She jolted forward a little, but her hips snapped up, a groan leaving her lips.

Jughead wet his lips before popping the button of his jeans and pulling his zipper down to relieve the pressure. He smacked her again, grinding his hips down against Betty's ass this time as she snapped back, seeking friction. He leant down, buried his nose into her wet hair, the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle cloying and pulling him into a lusty haze.

Fisting a hand in her hair he shoved Betty's head down, cheek pressed against his sleeping bag. She was panting, her cheeks flushed and eyes tightly closed. Jughead nibbled on her earlobe, causing a shiver to run down her spine, back arching in response. Pulling back, he slid his other hand from her hip down to her pussy, sliding through her wetness easily, a growl leaving his lips.

“You're fucking _soaked_ for me Betty,” he slipped his hand through her folds, rubbing up and down, fingers searching for what made her breath hitch the most. Jughead circled her clit with two fingers, rubbing gently as she writhed below him.

He knew this wasn’t going to take long.

He rubbed around her clit some more, pinching it gently before pulling his hand back and diving two fingers inside of her. She was a virgin, that was for sure. Her tight heat like a vice around his fingers, but she accepted him easily enough with how wet she was. Betty was a moaning mess underneath him, hands clenching and unclenching the material of his sleeping bag. “God, Juggie, _please._ ”

He slid his fingers out of her and she gasped at the sudden empty feeling. “Please what, Betty?” he asked, fingers barely touching her clit now. She had to catch her breath and he tugged sharply on the hair in his fist, bringing her head up as he kissed her neck. “ _Say it,_ ” he demanded, lips sucking at her throat. 

“Fuck me with your fingers,” Betty let out in a gasp, almost choking on the words. He smirked, grinding his cock down against her ass, her hips pushing back against him in response. 

“Is that all?” he questioned, breath hot on her ear as he blew the words across her wet skin. She shuddered beneath him, thighs clenching tight together. “Please, make me cum,” she finally managed, voice low and quiet, lips trembling.

Jughead sighed happily. “That’s my good girl,” he said, kissing the shell of Betty's ear while sliding his fingers back into her quickly. A squeal from her lips meeting his ears had him smirking. He let go of her hair in favor of hold her hips down as he pumped his fingers in and out of pussy. She was grinding against his sleeping bag, chanting his name over and over.

He could feel her tightening around his fingers, muscles clenching, thighs quivering. Jughead brought his other hand around her hips, sliding between the sleeping bag and her body, fingers finding her clit and rubbing slowly. He could feel her shaking now and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, she was sticky with sweat.

He bucked his own hips against her ass, cock grinding to find some of his own relief. He grit his teeth, choking out a moan. “Come on, Betts.”

Jughead pressed against the front wall of muscles inside her, fingers curling as he pumped faster. She finally shattered when he circled her clit again with his other hand. Betty let out a wail, his name continuing to tumble from her lips.

He pulled his hands away from her, her hips falling to the floor as he put his hand covered in her slick around his cock, bringing it out and pumping himself up and down. It didn’t take him long before he was moaning her name and emptying himself against her ass. Betty was still catching her breath when he tucked himself back into his jeans, doing the button and zipper back up.

Swiping his fingers across the mess he'd made of her, Jughead gathered up most of his cum across his index and middle fingers. He threaded his other hand through Betty's hair, tugging on it and bringing her face up in the air as he held his fingers in front of her lips.

“Let's get you cleaned up now.”

Betty's eyes were dark, grassy green as they darted up to his before she parted her lips. He dipped his fingers inside her mouth, her tongue swirling over them. She moaned, the hum carrying all through her body and making him buzz at each point they were connected. Fuck. He was going to get hard again.

.

.

.

When Jason Blossom was revealed to be missing the next morning, he wasn’t sure what he should think. _Good riddance_ , was his immediate thought and he decided after a little deliberation that it was a good statement and he'd stick by it. The fact that the last place Jason had been seen by Cheryl, his twin sister, was Sweetwater River on Sunday morning, was another thing entirely. He really wasn’t sure what to make of that.

The memory of Betty last night came to the forefront of his mind then. Her hair and clothes dripping wet from the torrential downpour of the thunderstorm that had been raging. Her hands had been shaking and at first he thought she must have been cold but he remembers touching her arm and she had been surprisingly warm. She never said what she was really doing out in the woods when she got caught in the rain. She mentioned coming to him _because_ of the rain.

Maybe she was hiding something. Maybe she knew something about Jason?

Thoughts swirling in his head made him space out all day in school. Not that there was much going on, things were tense for the students and the teachers seemed to be giving everyone a free pass.

You'd be interested to know that this has happened before, a student going missing that is. 

About seven months ago, towards the beginning of their sophomore year, Chuck Clayton disappeared after the homecoming dance. Everyone had seen him at Veronica Lodge's party hooking up with Ethyl Muggs – the poor girl. Chuck wasn’t a saint; he had blood the color of a red delicious apple and didn’t care who knew it. He used and abused girls. Jughead hadn’t batted an eye when that cocky ass jock never showed up to school again.

But now Jason too? It was interesting, that’s for sure. He had been dating Polly Cooper, Betty’s older sister. The sisters were only a year apart, and seemed very close. He remembered seeing Polly crying into the shoulder of another girl this morning. Betty didn’t look terribly upset, but then again she wasn’t dating him. 

Jughead watched her all day. 

The way she bit her pencil between her teeth, the adjustment of her ponytail every 30 minutes, the way she kept looking at the clock, her fingers clenching into fists and the way she always checked her hands when she caught herself doing it.

They hadn't spoken since she left yesterday, his shirt still covering her. Her blue underwear were tucked into his metal box at home, and now he had a new prize in mind. More of Betty's underwear, and also her virginity. He felt like she'd willingly give both up though, so it wasn’t really a challenge but a ‘how can I make this interesting?’ thing now. He wondered how dark his blood could get from the wicked things he wanted to do to her.

They were currently in their creative liberty period – basically a fuck off class. Some people did art, some people did homework. Jughead liked to work on his novel. Betty did a multitude of things. Today she was organizing some big binder for the Blue and Gold; article clippings, flyers and the like. He heard her curse under her breath and looked across the table at her. She was holding her thumb between her lips. His eyes narrowed, flashing back to the way she had sucked his own fingers yesterday. He opened his mouth the say something but decided against it, too many other ears.

“Ugh, I hate paper cuts,” she muttered, still sucking on her thumb. He raised an eyebrow, going back to his typing. He watched her carefully, as her thumb finally lowered. He could see the faint line of the cut, just a slit in the skin, the flesh around it pale from where she had been suckling it. He was disappointed, he wanted to see what color her blood was. He flicked his eyes up to her face for a moment and then back down to his laptop.

 _What_?

He brought his eyes back up, her lower lip seemed more red. Had she been wearing lipstick today? He couldn’t remember. He gazed at her lips intently. Where they always that red or was he being paranoid? Her bottom lip looked like the color of a dark strawberry. He blinked, bringing a hand to his own lips, rubbing over them.

“Betty?”

“Yeah, Juggie?” she answered without looking up.

“My sister is getting really into makeup lately. Her birthday is coming up and I thought I’d get her something," He threw a shrug in there for effect, but she hasn’t really looked up for more than a second. “Any recommendations?”

“Hmm, I would say the easiest thing to buy would be a tube of lipstick.”

Well that was easy. That must be Betty's favorite makeup item.

“Oh, okay. Any color recs?” he hmm’d, backspacing a bunch of nothing on his laptop as he pretended to sound only mildly interested. He tapped his lower lip in thought, watching as she seemed to stop what she was doing this time.

“She has dark hair, like yours right?” Jughead nodded. “Then I would go with something dark, maybe a merlot, raisin, or cinnamon spice color,” she said, tapping her lip in thought.

“What color are you wearing today?” he asked, tilting his head. Now or never.

“Oh, I’m wearing precious peach, silly. It's way too light for her.”

Bingo. He rolled his eyes, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “Right, _duh_. Thanks. Maybe I’ll go with cinnamon, that’s sounds spicy like her. She can be a little firecracker.” He nodded to himself, reaching a hand up and sweeping a loose curl away, tucking the edge back up into his beanie.

Betty smiled at him, returning to her work. Jughead eyed her lips again, wondering if her blood was really dark enough to turn her lip that color. He imagined himself biting her lip, hard, and seeing the darkness spread spread between them. 

.

.

.

_Betty fucking Cooper._

He had never been more attracted to her, and just yesterday he had his fingers inside her, his name rolling off her tongue as she came.

Jughead closed his eyes, having to steady his breathing. He was sitting in Pop’s, he couldn’t do this here.

Peeking an eye open, he watched Betty sip on a strawberry milkshake, laughing with Veronica a couple booths down. How was he going to do this? He needed to think. He was having trouble with that because he kept imagining smearing his blood across Betty’s lips and watching as she licked his cock.

_Shit._

Jughead shut his laptop, giving up on the pretense of working. He tugged on his beanie, glancing over to Betty and Veronica again. He was going crazy.

He stood up, throwing a couple dollars down for the shake he had devoured and left the diner. He decided he would just break into her fucking house later. That would be interesting. He grinned wickedly to himself as he walked back to his dad's trailer to gather what he needed.

Later, he would find that the Coppers made it ridiculously easy to get into their house. He found the basement window to be unlocked and easily slipped inside. He had actually been inside enough to know where Betty's room was and how best to get there as quietly as he could.

When he got to her room he flipped the lock on the door, his eyes trailing to her bed to find her curled on her side. He looked around the rest of her room, eyes landing on the backpack she had with her at the shed and he couldn’t help but look inside.

Jughead found the black hair he had seen the other night. Turns out it was a short black wig, cut into a bob hairstyle. He whistled quietly, low-key wanting to see her wear it. He also found a thing of rope, a knife similar to his, another bag of fucking twizzlers, and a bottle of sleeping pills. He looked at everything, trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle together.

Jughead probably stood there for a solid five minutes, thinking, before his hand tightened in the wig. He dropped it to the floor, looking over at Betty laying on the bed. The sheets were drawn down around her waist due to the heat. She seemed to only be wearing the shirt she had stolen from him the other day. He climbed over her on the bed, settling himself above her, poised to sit down on her thighs to hold her in place.

He pulled his knife from his pocket along with the pair of Betty's underwear he had kept the other day. He drug the knife up her thigh, pressing down lightly. He had just pressed the tip of the knife down into her skin when she stirred. Her eyes flying open as Jughead slapped a hand over her mouth, shoving the lace of her panties in. Her eyes widened impossibly, looking at him until she realized who was ontop of her. Betty relaxed slightly until she felt the bite of the knife at her thigh again. Then she really started struggling, trying to wiggle away from him, eyes watering as she threatened to cry.

“Betty, baby, come on. I'm not really trying to hurt you. Stay still,” he hissed at her, hands clutching at her shoulder as his legs trapped her between his, hips pressing down on her thighs. She was still struggling, begging around her gag and shaking her head. He rolled his eyes at her.

“I know Betty,” he said slowly, taking the knife up to her belly where her shirt had ridden up. “I know your dirty little secret. And I think it’s so _fucking hot_ I can’t stand it,” she froze at his words, looking up at him, eyes glistening. He pulled the underwear from her mouth, her lips staying parted with just her ragged breaths coming from them.

Jughead pricked his thumb with the knife, drawing a bead of berry colored blood on the tip. He held it up for her to see. “We’re the same, Betty,” he said, sticking his thumb between her lips, catching it against her tongue. He felt her shiver as the drop found her.

She fell limp to the bed, all her muscles that were tense relaxing, her fight seeming to be gone. _Oh Betty._ It seemed she was really torn up about this.

“I killed Jason Blossom.” her voice was low and rough and sent shivers up his spine. Jughead looked down at her, incredulous.

 _She what_?

He hadn’t actually expected those exact words to come from her lips. He didn’t expect her to admit anything, for one thing. He was also thinking that maybe she just played a part, with someone else, tagging along for the thrill.

“I killed Chuck Clayton for what he did to all those girls. I killed Jason Blossom for what he did to my sister.”

Her voice was chilling, like liquid ice fighting the fire in his veins. Jughead blinked down at her, frozen on top of her. She lay underneath him, docile and beautiful with her golden hair fanned out across her pillow. Green eyes had hardened, staring up at him without reserve.

Jughead drew the tip of the knife along her collarbone suddenly, her sharp intake of breath sent his chest fluttering. The blood that welled to the surface from the small cut was a very dark cherry red, almost black. He stared, unabashedly, down at her before dipping his head down and swiping his tongue across her skin, picking up the red droplets. She tasted so _good,_ sweet like sugar. He groaned, his pelvis grinding hard against her thigh where she could feel how hard he was.

She tilted her head back, moaning softly. “Juggie, _please_ , I want you to fuck me.” she was begging him and it’s what he came here for after all.

He pulled hershirt up past her breasts, keeping it on her body. He tossed the knife to the floor, his shirt floating to the ground after it. His eyes traveled the skin before him, falling lower, eyes growing dark when he realized she hadn't been wearing any underwear.

“Fuck,” Jughead growled low in his throat, hand coming up to grasp her throat, his fingers wrapped around the delicate skin there. He leant forward, kissing up her jaw, fingers pressing in lightly. Betty's breath hitched slightly and he could feel her thighs clench where they were still trapped between his. He chuckled, releasing her throat from his hand and burrowing it in her hair. He tugged on her scalp, tilting her head and bringing his lips down against hers.

Betty wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling him closer to her. He kissed her fiercely, trying to pour his emotions into her. He grabbed her around the waist, flipping their positions so that Betty was laying on top of him between his legs. Pulling back from him, she sat upright, hands going toward the closure of his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper with shaky hands.

Jughead helped her slide his pants and boxers down, her shirt coming off and falling to the floor with the other garments. Betty knocked his beanie off his head, throwing it toward her nightstand. She climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, his cock pressed hotly against her belly as they kissed.

“Betty...” He murmured, running his hands down her smooth back, hands cupping her bottom and rolling her hips toward him. Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging gently.

He slipped two of his fingers inside her, thumb rubbing her clit. She gasped, arching her back, fingernails digging into his shoulders. She was already so slick and he had her panting in no time, eyes clenched shut as she rode out her orgasm on his fingers. “Oh Juggie, god.. please,” she whimpered, his fingers still sliding against her sensitive sex.

Jughead wrapped a hand around his length, guiding her down onto him. She sunk down without much resistance, but he felt her still once their thighs were touching. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, breathing out his nose as her pussy clenched tightly around him. Betty started to relax and he breathed a sigh of relief, his hands moving to her hips where he began to them in a steady rhythm.

They were doing this slow and sensual. He could feel Betty's heart beating with his, their chests pressed together. Trailing his lips up her neck, he sucked a dark mark into her skin by the cut he had made on her collarbone. Flicking his tongue against the line that had ceased bleeding, he made his way up to her ear whispering her name as he nibbled on her earlobe.

He leaned back against her headboard, eyes watching her tits bounce as Betty moved up and down on his cock. He groaned, hands reaching up to squeeze them gently, then moving up and down her sides. Jughead gripped her hips, pushing and pulling her faster as he dug his heels into the bed for leverage. Betty's eyes were fluttering and she brought her hand down to her clit to rub slow circles, the gentle pressure of her fingers and the grind against Jughead's pubic bone sending her over the edge as she clenched around him. “Juggie,” she sighed sweetly, breath catching in her throat.

He closed his eyes, grit his teeth and pulled her down hard against him a few more times before he was following her release. Jughead moaned her name, it rolling of his tongue and making him feel dizzy as emptied himself inside her. He could feel their fluids mixing, sitting low in her belly.

In the aftermath, they held onto each other. Betty still straddling his lap, her arms wound around his neck. She pressed a kiss to the skin of his neck, right on his pulse point, and felt her teeth graze over it, sucking gently. She sighed, leaning her forehead against his, picking his hand up from her hips and holding it against her chest so he could feel her heart beating.

“I love you, Betty Cooper,” Jughead spoke softly, lips grazing her temple. His hand clasped in hers as they laced their fingers together, hers still a bit shaky.

“ _I know_ ,” she whispered back to him, fingers carding through his hair. The glow of the moon in the window making her eyes look even more glossy, eyelashes wet from held back tears. Her red lips curving into a smile as she leaned forward to press her lips against his, tongues tangling together. She tasted sinfully sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! [@jane-hoppers](https://jane-hoppers.tumblr.com)  
> People can always send me prompts! :)


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